A Very Unusual Air War (15 page)

Through the autumn and winter months operational activity was greatly reduced but we filled in our time with other occupations. Pushed by Group Captain Beamish, the Station Commander, we made more regular visits to the Link trainer. Like most pilots, we heartily disliked this machine; the Link of those days moved jerkily and bore little resemblance to a real aeroplane. However, they certainly made an improvement to one’s instrument flying, something that was really necessary in view of the frequent periods of bad weather. They were a far cry from the modern F16 simulator that I ‘flew’ many years later at Luke American Air Force base near Phoenix, Arizona, courtesy of the USAF. Our turn at Redhill in January and February 1942 saved us from further punishment.

It was fully expected that the Luftwaffe would resume its efforts to defeat the RAF in the spring of 1942 and that, as in Belgium, the German ‘crack’ parachute troops would spearhead an invasion. It was decided that all aircrew serving in the south of England should be taught the rudiments of unarmed combat. At Kenley our instructors were the tough NCOs from the Guards depot at nearby Caterham. They were great fellows who had been in the thick of the fighting in France. I think they let us down lightly but we all agreed that it was great fun while it lasted, despite a few bumps and bruises.

Another activity during the winter months was making frequent visits to the UVR (ultra violet ray) room. We used to strip down to our underpants and wear dark glasses. I seem to remember that sessions were restricted to 30 minutes. I also clearly remember the strong ozone smell. It was a great pity that the sessions were restricted to men only.

14 January
: The Kenley Wing comprised three squadrons: 602 City of Glasgow AAF (Auxiliary Air Force), originally all Scottish personnel, later mainly from Scotland but with chaps like me from other countries to fill the gaps; 452 Squadron, all Australians with the exception of one flight commander; and 485, all young men from New Zealand. Two squadrons were based at Kenley and the third at the small grass airfield at Redhill. The units were rotated and in January and February it was our turn at Redhill.

There were no living quarters at Redhill so, as at Kenley, the NCOs were in a commandeered house outside the airfield boundary. It was somewhat primitive with just toilet facilities. It was extremely cold during our stay. At the airfield there was a mess hut, with dining room, lounge area and a well-stocked bar. The latter was well patronised during the severe weather during our stay. Heavy snow made flying impossible although by united efforts we did manage to clear a runway.

Johnny Niven was one of the cadets with whom I went through the final few weeks of training. Some time in the autumn of 1941 we helped him to celebrate his 21st birthday in the Sergeants’ Mess at Kenley. In what was alleged to be a Scottish custom, an empty pint pot was placed upon the bar counter. As a birthday present we were each expected to buy him a drink, all different, and empty it into the awaiting tankard. He had to drink it during the celebrations and the effect was catastrophic. He staggered outside, presumably for a breath of fresh air and started walking backwards towards the parade ground. It took two or three of us to overcome his objections and get him back to his billet. To our amazement he survived the experience without any apparent ill effect and reported for duty as usual the next morning.

He was the first of us ‘new boys’ to be commissioned and early in the spring of 1942 he was promoted to Flight Lieutenant and appointed flight commander of ‘A’ Flight. Later in the war, as a Squadron Leader, he was awarded a DFC but shortly afterwards was shot down and I believe was badly wounded. Many years after the war we met at the Hendon RAF Museum, when he recognised me across the width of a crowded restaurant. I gave him a lift back to Aylesbury where he was staying with friends. He invited Estelle and me to pay him a visit at his home in Inverness but sadly suffered a fatal heart attack before we could take up the offer.

Early in January another major change took place: our greatly respected commanding officer, my friend Squadron Leader Al Deere, was promoted to Wing Commander and departed to become leader of one of the other sector wings. He was replaced by Squadron Leader Brendan Paul Finucane, a dashing young Irishman, known to us all as ‘Paddy’. He had joined 452 Squadron shortly after the Battle of Britain and eventually became one of their Flight Commanders. During 1941 he had built up a reputation as a crack shot and at that time was credited with having shot down over 20 Luftwaffe aircraft, nearly all in fighter-to-fighter combat. Although only 21 years of age, he had been awarded a DSO, DFC and bar. In his time at 602, up to mid-May when I completed my tour, he scored many more victories. His confirmed kills at that time stood at 31 and a half and I was honoured to share that other half. Away from Kenley he was modest and retiring although, by reason of his record, he was always in demand by the media. He was courting a lovely young woman who lived near Kingston-on-Thames and we sometimes travelled together on the Southern Railway when I paid a visit to Slough to see my wife. On such occasions, to spare my feelings, he always wore a buttoned-up raincoat to hide his medal ribbons. He and Johnny Niven were very much responsible for developing ways of overcoming, to some extent, our problems with the FW 190s. Paddy had a number of close calls but was never shot down by an enemy fighter.

Sadly, on 15th July 1942, having moved again to become wing leader at one of the other sector stations, he was brought down by ground fire when crossing the coast of France on a return trip. Paddy chose to attempt a landing in the Channel but his Spitfire nosed over and went straight down, like Group Captain F.V. Beamish; Paddy was never found.

During the first two weeks of February I was attached to a tank division of the Canadian Army to foster the co-operation that was essential to later operations. These fine young men, all of whom had volunteered to join in the fight against Nazi Germany, had not then seen any action. They treated us like gods and mollycoddled us through the manoeuvres on Salisbury Plain. The weather was fine but cold and while they slept in improvised hammocks, they gave us a warm spot alongside the engine of a Bren Carrier. We returned to Redhill loaded with Passing Cloud cigarettes and other goodies. Many of these men died in the fiasco at Dieppe later that year.

For two or three weeks of our stay at Redhill I was somewhat incapacitated by an infection and severe rash in a rather personal area. Treatment consisted of an application, night and morning, of a gentian violet preparation, which, while effective, was not a pretty sight. It was a relief that the medical staff at Redhill were male and not members of the WAAF. The rash was caused by poor laundry facilities and unclean underclothes. I stress this latter explanation!

Towards the end of February there were some operations and, after one in particular, I witnessed a spectacular escape. Sgt John Strudwick was badly shot up and his Spitfire severely damaged. He made several attempts to land and finally crashed. He was saved because he ploughed into a snow bank.

During the long, dark evenings of winter we received many invitations to attend events away from Kenley and Redhill. One of the Sergeant Pilots was a youngster named Paul Green, who had joined the Squadron during the autumn. Paul was a top class table tennis player and I was a fairly good exponent. On three occasions Paul and I were invited to venues in London to join in demonstration matches with the then world champions. Paul partnered Victor Barna, a Hungarian who held the world championship for many years, while I played alongside Richard Bergmann, a young Austrian who was the current world champion. This was for me a great honour and it was amazing how playing at this level lifted one’s own capability.

We were often invited to London nightclubs and although not my cup of tea, I found it an experience which was quite enjoyable. I remember in particular the Artists’ Club and Number 1 Piccadilly. I never saw the point of attending these places and paying inflated prices for drinks and service but as we seldom had to pay, it was worth joining in. More to my liking were the 24-hour passes for visits to Slough when Estelle and I met up with old friends for drinks at the local. My brother-in-law, Percy Climer, was a policeman and one of his duties was the stewardship of the South Bucks Police Recreation Club. I spent many happy hours there for games of snooker and darts. As a result I came to know many members of the regular police force, as well as quite a few Special Constables. They made me very welcome and tended to regard me as their own fighter pilot. It was through Percy that Estelle was engaged, nominally as secretary, to the Slough CID department. Though not officially a policewoman, she frequently assisted the ‘tecs’ in their dealings with female wrong-doers.

I got to know Mr. Tucker, the Superintendent, very well, especially after being reported for low flying! One low pass over Slough police station from North to
South took me over Windsor Castle and a sharp-eyed Windsorian caught my number. Fortunately, he reported it to the police and not to the RAF, so I got away with a tongue-in-cheek telling off from the Super.

On another evening I had a taste of fame. Then as now we maintained close links with the lads of the ATC (Air Training Corps) and often welcomed them at Kenley with introductory flights. As a result, two of us were asked to attend the headquarters of a South London squadron for a session with the press. The following morning and the same evening my picture appeared in the London papers giving the boys instruction about aero engines and combat manoeuvres. The captions over these pictures read ‘Tips from an Expert’ and described me as ‘a British fighter pilot with several German notches to his credit.’ As, at that time, I was credited with just one destroyed I came in for some ribbing from the rest of the Squadron. In fact it cost me a round of drinks in the mess.